


A Disciple Is Chosen

by Braxdovah



Category: Vampire: The Masquerade, White Wolf
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:08:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23777380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Braxdovah/pseuds/Braxdovah
Summary: An Inquisitor of the Sabbat takes on his first Knight





	A Disciple Is Chosen

A messenger arrives bearing a letter written on red parchment. The seal is a dark grey almost metallic. Within the wax is an impression of the Sword of Caine. Wordlessly, the messenger holds out the document as if presenting an offering. When the black of his hood falls away, it is clear why the ghoul has not spoken. Delicate chain loops in and out of grommets set above and below his lips. Otherwise, he is conventionally attractive but subdued. 

Malachi, 

Come to Symfonía at 11 pm this evening. I would have a discussion with you about your path and future within the Sword of Caine. This is a private meeting. 

Darius Escarra   
House Parcae   
Judge Inquisitor 

The words are written in a black shimmering liquid. Laying in the ghoul’s palm under the letter is a card with the address for Symfonía on it. 

\------

Malachi’s pale grey eyes study the ghoul for a few seconds, carefully. It’s not an unusual sight, but strangely attractive - definitely not any of his family’s ghouls. His eyes wander down to the envelope, and he opens the letter delicately. His eyebrows raise at the name signed at the end of the letter. He’d heard of Darius of course, seen him in the company of his elders, but -- a personal letter? And a personal meeting, with the Inquisitor? 

A small part of him nervously wondered if he had done something wrong. 

He takes it in stride anyway, nodding in acknowledgement to the ghoul. He arrives punctually later that night at the address provided, dressed in his customary all black - black pants, black collared shirt, and a long and plain black coat, his long hair billowing behind him loosely. There isn’t a hint of colour about Malachi’s person, and his expression is neutral and calm. 

“Inquisitor Escarra.” He declares himself with a small bow. “It’s a pleasure.”

\---

The Inquisitor gestures for him to sit. “Malachi of House Sardis. Your interests have not gone unnoticed.” Darius leans back on his chaise. The red cloak sweeps over one shoulder and trails to the floor as he stretches his leather clad legs. 

The inquisitor resembles an indolent prince crowned with horns of silver. The horns rest in a sea of white hair. Metal gleams on his hands and around his throat. The iron reliquary that is the symbol of his office rests on his hip. Blue eyes drink Malachi in, consuming him with a cruel intensity. 

“It is rare for me to have to take such a direct hand.” 

\--

Malachi sinks into the chair, clearly a little on edge. His hands nervously wring in his lap, but he sits up straight, his eyes roving over Darius’ intimidating features. He tries to meet his eyes when Darius looks him over so intensely - it always served him well not to show fear.

“Have I done something wrong, Inquisitor…?” Mal asks gently, timidly.

\---

Darius’ lips quirk in a semblance of a smile if a great cat could smile. It has the side effect of making it look as if he is considering devouring the one before him. “Do I look like the type to play nice with a heretic? You are not a heretic, unless you had a sudden change in faith between my message and now, correct?” 

“Malachi, my dear brother in Caine, I wish to see you become more than you have been. I would water your strength with the blood of your enemies, dress you in the trappings of their spoils.” 

He inhales and rises, walking closer, the saunter of a man, vampire, that knows he is secure here in his domain, true king of all he surveys. He leans down and whispers in Malachi’s ear. “I would pleasure you senseless, in the ashes of the unfaithful.” 

\----

“No, of course not, sir. I would expect heretics get barely any warning before you slit their throats.” A small smile tugs are the corners of his lips as he says so. He’s a bold young one, and doesn’t tear his eyes away from his superior, even when he feels inexplicably like prey before his gaze. 

As Darius walks closer to him, he looks up, wide eyes bordering on adoring. The whisper in his ear causes a palpable shiver to course down his spine.

He briefly bites his lip.

“What would you have me do?”

\---

He withdraws slightly. “Join me. Stand at my side, safeguard the faithful. Purge the heretic.” Darius grasps Malachi’s jaw gently and runs a clawed ring along his cheekbone. “I can teach you how to be far more if you follow my example. The night will open before you and allow you access to the most secret desires of your soul, ripe to be savored.” 

“Well, my sweet Malachi, will you take your rightful place? Can you be the fire that burns away the traitorous that would weaken us all?” 

\---

Malachi’s eyes are wide, enraptured at the being before him - ever so subtly, he almost slides his head to follow the trail the clawed ring draws upon his skin. “You want… You wish for me to join the Inquisition?” He murmurs.

Never in his sixty years could he imagine he would be asked to fulfill such an honour for the Sword of Caine.

“I would do so happily… Do you think this is the right path for me?”

\---

“I am asking you personally to serve under myself and train to become a Knight Inquisitor. You desire to see those that would abuse the freedom of the Sword and shackle your siblings in Caine to be laid waste.” Darius pauses and places Malachi’s hand just to the side of the reliquary. “I would have you be with me.” 

\---

“Yes.” Malachi replies without hesitation, his eyes still on Darius but fingers curiously questing to the reliquary. “I want to serve the Sword. I want to serve you, I want to be of use to enemies of Caine.” 

He’s reverent and adoring, inching himself a little closer. “I will follow.”

\---

Darius nods and strokes Malachi’s cheek once more. “You are welcome here, I will contact you as I need your services. Feel free to acquaint yourself with my base of operations.” Darius steps back, leaving Malachi’s fingers just short of the reliquary. “I suggest you keep the personal nature of this interview private. After all, as I said, I do not do this often but I know where you should be and I will get you there.”

\--

Malachi nods, and slowly gets back to his feet. He brings his hand back, and seems to quiver with excitement. 

“Yes, sir. I'll do so.”

\---

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A vampire that can only be described as an altar boy escorts Malachi into Darius’ private sanctum. Along the side of an aisle leading up to an throne are a bevy of exquisitely crafted instruments of torture. Each has a ghoul silently installed within. Malachi would recognize these as choice among the staff. 

Darius is bare chested, kneeling in prayer of his own. His voice carries in the space and he rises seemingly without looking to see Malachi has arrived. 

The walls shift and stone grinds on stone. A staircase forms in front of Malachi that would lead him into a basin. The altar boy stops, and kneels genuflecting in silence beside Malachi.

From Malachi’s vantage, there are grooves at the foot of each device. The stone before the throne has risen and formed an altar. The items that had appeared to rest neatly behind Darius are now within his easy reach a scroll, a silver bowl and his iron reliquary. 

“Malachi, my beloved, tonight you become part of something greater than either of us. You become an extension of Caine’s will. You will not only give your blood freely with your brothers and sisters. You will shed the blood of the false, that would blaspheme our Dark Father.” 

The runnels begin to fill with blood slowly pooling in the basin. Above them, the devices have engaged. Noises of agony sound almost melodic. Shadows rise around Malachi. 

“All will be laid bare before Caine. You can conceal nothing from him.”

\---

Malachi enters following the altar boy. His hair is tied up into a high ponytail, a plain black collared shirt, and black pants - he was dressed rather simply and solemnly for the occasion. He casts his eyes up to Darius as he enters, suspiciously glancing around the instruments of torture. 

He's breathing, out of habit, letting his heart beat nervously in his chest. As the basin opened up before him, he quietly steps out of his shoes before heading down.

Standing at the indent, trembling hands undo the buttons of his shirt from the top, revealing a few inches of pale and spotless chest.

As the screams begin and the blood starts flowing, Mal reaches up to take the elastic from his hair, letting the long black tresses fall around his shoulders like shadows.

"I accept service in the name of the Dark Father and the Sword of Caine. I will protect the flock from those who would dare harm it with their lack of faith..."

\---

The shadows accept the clothing moving it carefully to the side. The blood continues as he speaks. 

“Cain gave up what was most beloved to him in his sacrifice of Abel. You also will render unto him, your unlife in dedicated service. No lover, no friend, family or packmate will be spared from judgement should they fall from the path.”

He steps up to the edge and smiles. 

\--- 

Malachi strips everything away with little trepidation, not until he’s standing in the filling pool of blood naked as the day he was born. Laid bare before Caine. He’s tall and modestly well-built, his black hair sweeping over his shoulders and reaching down to just about his lower back. There are no marks upon his pale skin, save for a pockmark on his lower left side, just above the hipbone, that looks like a clear scar from a bullet wound that was left long before embrace. 

The blood pools around his ankles, slowly traveling up his calves. The scent of it is intoxicating, and makes his beast stir, but he quells it, willing himself to keep his eyes trained on Darius at all costs.

“I will devote everything to Caine. I would take no part in the politics of the sect, avoid all the petty machinations of our kind. I will spare no one. I exist to ensure the will of Caine, his faith, remains pure. The only true love there is, the only friend I have, is Caine.”  
\----

Darius reaches a hand out, motioning the creature closer. The altar boy seems to lose control of himself and whines as he moves closer. Shadows fix the vampire in place. His jaw is pried open and laying there dormant is his heart. 

“Betrayers of the Sword choke on their own desires.” 

He rips the heart out and crushes it in his hand, discarding the ash.

“Blessed is he who will serve as a wolf hound and protect the flock of Caine.” 

He gathers the bowl and anoints Malachi with a mixture of the ghoul blood and his own. There is no nervousness about the blood staining his bare skin. Darius is single mindedly focused on this devotion to the ritual. 

“Praise the Dark Father.”

\----

The scent of the blood filling the basin is intoxicating - but the Elder’s potent blood even more so, a sweet note in the mix that stirs something deep within Malachi that he doesn't even understand. 

He closes his eyes as Darius anoints him with the blood, an image of bliss in the moment. His trembling is from excitement, not nerves.

“Praise Caine,” He says at first softly, full of feeling. 

“Praise Caine!” He repeats louder, his voice echoing from the stone walls.

\----


End file.
